Page 37 of Wicked Deceit
I frown, crossing my arms. "What is it with you guys and that phrase? I'm always good," I mumble, making mean faces behind his back. Be good, Kace. I swear I hear that on repeat day in and day out. What do they take me for?
He smirks, some of his earlier stress melting away from him when he approaches the beautiful set of French doors. Seeming happier now that we're here and no other cars or signs of life exist. Opening the front door, he gestures for me to enter.
"Welcome to the seventh circle of Hell. Please keep your mouth shut and hands to yourself at all times. Or punishments await," he says in his best mocking announcer voice when we enter the echoey entryway.
I scoff. "Oh ye of little faith," I accuse, pointing a stern finger at him and giving him my best stink eye.
Unfortunately, it only makes him grunt like a caveman and roll his eyes, confirming he has little confidence in my abilities to keep my mouth shut. Or not take things I shouldn't. Okay. His worry is warranted. I'm a hot mess when it comes to focusing and….
Shit.
His meaty fingers wrap around my wrist, jostling me down the hall and knocking me out of my nonstop thoughts. Stupid random throughs always carrying me away. So much so, I miss half the house when my caveman drags me like a damn sheep down a long hallway, herding me somewhere.
Before me an inconspicuous, large wooden door, stands taller than any door I've ever seen. I crane my neck until I finally find where the door meets the tall ceilings. Peering around, I notice another tall door down the way with similar features. So, if this is the office door we are in search of, then it doesn't immediately scream open me or search me. Eh, well—except for the weird looking eyes carved into the wood grain, making it look possessed. Is this a warning sign that evil awaits behind this door? I cock my head, searching the wood again and note several pairs of eyes looking back at me. The door is watching my every move, reporting back to the head dick in charge and…
I freeze when Carter's hand disappears into the depths of my coat pocket, rustling around. His breath rolls across my ear as he crowds behind me. Seductively, he nips at my lobe, dragging it between his teeth and distracting me as he searches for my prize possession. My eyes roll into the back of my head when his entire body presses against me, making me wish he could just throw me down. Once he finds whatever he's looking for, he kisses my cheek, murmuring sweet nothings—or maybe those are curses. My cheeks heat as my pick lock kit comes into view and I stare dreamily at it, imagining the possibilities.
Nothing is off limits now. Office drawers. Hidden closets. Secret rooms. I cross my fingers for the secret rooms. You can't hide anything from me, Cushing Cunningham. Especially with this in my grasp.
Who knows what treasures he hides in the depths of his drawers? Office drawers. Ew. Not drawers as in his underwear and… shit. Now I'm thinking of the wrong Cunningham's underwear. Carter's dick piercings. Carter's sword. Carter's—
"Jesus Christ. How much sleep did you get last night?" Carter whispers harshly in my ear, tapping the kit in his fingers. "Get a fucking move on, Vixen. We need to do this as quickly as possible." He thrusts his hips into mine, knocking me into action. Jerk. That's at least one way to get me going.
I pick the lock one handed, something I’ve been training to do since the doctors sealed my arm into a damn itchy cast. Writing, typing, and anything in between has been one handed, and it fucking sucks. I’ll rejoice the day they saw this thing off of me, and I can finally scratch my arm. It’ll feel better than two consecutive orgasms and a cupcake reward afterward.
Shit.
Now, I’m thinking about cupcakes and licking them off the boys, and….. I shake my head, focusing on my task. I can’t prove my boyfriend right. Ignoring his dig about my sleep schedule, I victoriously thrust the office door open with ease, letting it smack into the wall. Ta-da! Or by the scowl in his face, not so ta-da. Oops–I cringe. If there’s one thing we should be doing, it’s not leaving any trace that we were here. And that's exactly what I did. I'll just play it off like I did nothing wrong and spread my arms wide, displaying my crime. Smugly, I look over my shoulder at him, earning more eye rolls and scoffs. Seriously. Where's the appreciation? The gratitude? I was a good fucking girl, damn it. I want my cake…wait, I really do want some cake now. I wonder if he'll really reward me for being a good girl after this with frosting and… Oh, fuck.
Carter pulls me into the office with greater force than necessary and swivels me around. I grunt when he slams my back into the wall, and my breath leaves my lungs in one long exhale when my casted arm almost bangs into the wall. Pain stings every inch of my arm like tiny knives poking into my skin. Bastard. I scowl at him, but he doesn't notice through the twisted expression on his face.
Fury eats at his face but softens when my fingers run through his hair, and he melts. Every ounce of whatever he was feeling fades away into vulnerabilities shining through his wide eyes. His long lashes move rapidly as he blinks, coming back to himself. Almost as if he were lost in a weird fog, and I was his lighthouse leading him back.
"I'm fucking terrified," he murmurs his confession through one long, emotion-filled breath, clearly not wanting to admit his feelings.
My heart skips a beat when he leans into my touch, relaxing in the comfort of my presence, instead of pushing me away. Piece by piece, I'm prying him open with my crowbar, until he always tells me what's going through his mind.
"I know," I whisper through a heavy tongue. "And no, I was up all night tossing and turning. This whole thing…. It's a reminder of what we did before." I swallow hard, focusing on the acknowledgement in his twinkling eyes. Fine, I proved him right, okay? But, I have to use my own logic against me, too. If he needs to open up to me about his feelings, then I can do the same. Even if it bruises my poor pride just a smidge.
Last night, as I lay in my lonely bed at my parents’ with the lights off, the nerves blossomed in my gut. Only growing stronger. I don’t think I slept a wink, knowing in a matter of twelve hours we'd be walking into the lion's den without an actual clue what we were getting into. My only reassurance was Carter had told me more than once that he had everything under control. And I believed him and still do. He assured me everyone would be preoccupied and out of the house.
All I know is, there’s a ticking time bomb looming over my head. It’s counting down the days I have left on earth before the Apocalypse decides to strike me down. So, we have to get this done and spy on him like we did with Shaw and Crowe. Cushing Cunningham is the last brother on our list to look into. Last night without any help, Carter broke into Shaw’s office and his apartment and placed the discs in his computers. Only time will tell until we see the results of that.
Carter leans his forehead against mine, taking heaving breaths and grounding himself. The whole world falls away, leaving just the two of us to revel in each other. My eyes flutter shut when the heavy pounding of his heart rattles against my palm as it glides over his sculpted chest. With everything I have, I focus on the feel of his life force pounding against it. His fear comes through in waves. He doesn’t have to utter a word for me to see it written all over his face. I shiver when he puts his hand over mine, holding me there against his heart.
"Okay," he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against mine in a gentle kiss. His soft lips remain against mine for a solid three seconds before he pulls back. "Let's get to work." He nods his head and steps back.
Taking the discs out of his pocket, along with the ice pack he had shoved in there, he holds them up to the light again. My heart kicks up at their beauty. The same mesmerizing feeling washes over me when the specks glint in the light. After handling them when we put them in Crowe's office to spy on him, I'm still amazed at what they can do. How can two little discs spy so much? Just by taking a computer apart and placing one in there, we can see everything the person on the other side does.
"Let's do the damn thing," he mutters, heading to his father's large and shiny wooden desk near the open window.
Sunshine leaks in, shining a spotlight on every corner of the large room. Now that his gigantic form isn't hovering above me and blocking my view, I take in the room. Bookshelves line the walls, filled to the brim with different types of books. Old ones. New ones. Even ancient ones with peeling spines. I breathe in the familiar smell of books, and my shoulders sag. Nothing beats the scent of books, no matter how old they are. If we weren’t standing in a psychopath’s office, I might be impressed. I twirl in place, peeking at every corner.
Visions of a secret room hiding behind these walls, concealing whatever he doesn't want the world to see, come to life in my wandering mind. As I peer around the room, running my fingers over the worn spines of books, Carter gets to work taking apart Cushing's desktop tower and putting the disc next to the motherboard. He grunts and curses, but everything goes as smoothly as we could have hoped in under two minutes. This time, we didn’t need to be super quick, just efficient. He quietly puts the computer back together as I tug on every book, making sure there are no hidden cabinets or rooms behind them.
"The fuck you doing?" Carter barks, making me jump out of my damn skin. Scowling in his direction, I continue my perusal of the books, poking the tip of my tongue out in concentration.
I shrug, pulling on another book and holding my breath. I yearn to hear the whorls of mechanical mechanisms, but it doesn’t happen. My shoulders sag. Damn it. No secret room with this one. Maybe there's something on the walls that opens it instead. I peek at the wood paneling, knocking my knuckles against it, and shake my head in utter disappointment. Every villain has a secret place they hide the bodies or treasures—I'm hoping for gold coins or something.
